Also, it appears that his name was Wilius Coyotius.
Truth be told, that whole Vesuvius thing may have actually been a monumental Acme malfunction.
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Also, it appears that his name was Wilius Coyotius.
Many of the victims have been found with the tops of their heads missing—their brains having boiled and exploded.
Remind me to never stand on your lawn.
Depends if your significant other makes you buy a purse in her honor.Celebrity?
(Suicide sucks. Talk to whoever you need to, seriously)Depends if your significant other makes you buy a purse in her honor.
(Suicide sucks. Talk to whoever you need to, seriously)
Anthony Bourdain, a gifted storyteller and writer who took CNN viewers around the world, has died. He was 61.
CNN confirmed Bourdain's death on Friday and said the cause of death was suicide.
"It is with extraordinary sadness we can confirm the death of our friend and colleague, Anthony Bourdain," the network said in a statement Friday morning. "His love of great adventure, new friends, fine food and drink and the remarkable stories of the world made him a unique storyteller. His talents never ceased to amaze us and we will miss him very much. Our thoughts and prayers are with his daughter and family at this incredibly difficult time."
I wasn't in Haifa. I wasn't in the north of Israel. I don't know what that was like. I was in Beirut.
In the few years since I've started to travel this world, I've found myself changing. The cramped, cynical world view of a man who'd only seen life through the narrow prism of the restaurant kitchen had altered. I'd been so many places, I'd met so many people, from wildly divergent backgrounds, countries and cultures. Everywhere I'd been, I'd been--as in Beirut--treated so well. I'd been the recipient of so many random acts of kindness from strangers. And I'd begun to think that no matter where I went or who I sat down with, that food and a few drinks seemed always to bring people together; that this planet was filled with basically good and decent people doing the best they could, if frequently under difficult circumstances; that the human animal was perhaps a better and nicer species than I'd once thought.
I'd begun to believe that the dinner table was the great leveler, where people from opposite sides of the world could always sit down and talk and eat and drink, and if not solve all the world's problems, at least find for a time, common ground.
Now, I'm not so sure. Maybe the world's not like that at all. Maybe in the real world, the one without cameras and happy food and travel shows, everybody--the good and the bad together--are all crushed under the same terrible wheel. I hope--I really hope--I'm wrong about that.